


Listen for Your Silence

by onefootonego (startingXI)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, F/F, tw: depression, tw: discussion of suicidal ideation, tw: frank mention and discussion of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:19:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9651599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startingXI/pseuds/onefootonego
Summary: you think maybe it's time someone told her it's okay to be selfish. to look at her own emotions and let them be felt.[or: kara goes missing and it's not alex that finds her, it's m'gann]





	

**Author's Note:**

> please heed the tags guys, this is not happy go lucky story in the slightest.

when you get the call from maggie, you're walking home from work. it's four am, pushing five, and you know that a call from maggie at this time is never anything good. 

you hate being right. 

you hate answering the phone to hear the forced calm of maggie as she asks _"have you seen kara?"_

which is not how maggie usually opens any of her conversations, but tonight, with that question, you understand the distinct lack of small talk. 

[although small talk with maggie usually involves ignoring her newest excuses to get out of yoga, and - in the days before alex danvers - telling her who was at the bar and if it was worth coming around] 

you cast your mind back, already knowing that you haven't seen, or heard from kara since last night. 

*

"you know you don't actually have to help me." you say, watching kara scrub at a table top with a spray bottle in one hand and rag in the other "you can just sit at the bar and keep me company." 

kara looks at you over her shoulder "that would be mean." she says "i've got hands, i can help." 

the logic doesn't quite make the leap all the way to "so i'm going to help you clean up the bar like i do every monday night" but you're not going to complain about the extra help, so you leave well enough alone. 

besides, kara isn't bad company. 

there's the added bonus that you can't hear inside her head, that when it's you and her, it's quiet. or, as close to quiet as you can get being smack dab in the middle of a few million brains. the other sounds, of national city's citizens, they're muffled, like being around kara is like a blanket on your telepathy. 

it would be a lie for you to say that you don't enjoy her company for that reason alone. but also, also there's something about four am that relaxes you, something about not having to look at kara when you talk - but instead when family comes up, when crimes and loss are the topics of conversation, you can focus on the stack of cups you're cleaning. 

kara can keep her back to you and washes a table she's cleaned twice and it doesn't matter that both of your voices are watery. it doesn't matter. 

four am is a vulnerable time. you're tired, kara has work in a handful of hours and yet every monday, like clockwork, she shows up. 

you don't ask about sleep, not even in a joking way because you know she's not. you know the idea that kara getting a long nights rest is a myth. there's a difference from sleeping and being unconscious after strenuous exercise. you're familiar only with the idea of the latter and the former, well, there's a reason you work till close so often. 

tonight kara is particularly quiet. on the best of nights you hear about her day, about snapper or alex or whatever supergirl's been up to recently. in turn you share about your day, about the boxing gym you go to and the regulars who still try and hit on you. anything to make her laugh, to ease the tension you've watched ratchet up her spine the past few weeks. 

tonight there's none of that. 

kara had murmured a hello, a greeting of sorts that may not have been in english, but you aren't quite sure. she goes straight to wiping down tables, depositing stray glasses on the bar, by the sink. it's almost robotic the way she does it, and it's the first time you wish you could see inside her head. 

except this is kara. 

and you're you. 

and you're friends. 

[or something] 

so eventually, when kara is cleaning the only table you can't see directly from the bar you say "you can talk, if you need to." 

and you leave it at that. 

you're curious sure, but you also know the unspeakable weight of a world lost and you know sometimes how that can drag you to your knees. how even on the best of days you're still one step away from being consumed by all that just doesn't exist any more.

it's five minutes longer before kara speaks. 

there's a wall of empty glasses and a few aerosol cans between you and the table she's sprayed down. her voice is soft, so quiet you have to still just to catch what she's saying 

"it sucks," kara says "i-" she stops, you see her shake her head "i don't know what to do sometimes." 

it's a feeling you relate to. 

when you feel too much. 

"i know." you tell her, picking up a glass and rinsing it under the tap, because you do. 

and kara is quiet for a while longer before she says, stock still and looking at - maybe through - the wall "sometimes i wish i didn't feel anything any more." 

and god you know the feeling. 

*

you think of that now and kick yourself. how could you have not seen that statement for what it was - suicidal ideations are not a human phenomenon alone. it leaves your heart pounding in your chest, your mind racing because here's the thing 

you know kara. 

you like to think you know her well - there are things she shares with you that you suspect no one else knows. 

the reverse is certainly true. 

and what you know is that at the end of the day kara won't kill herself. not because the ways she could do so on this planet are limited. not because she thinks one day it's all going to get better 

[it won't. it can't. there's no taking back the destruction of her people.] 

no, 

kara lives on because you know she's thought about what removing herself from the equation would do to the people in her life. 

alex. 

eliza. 

james. 

winn. 

j'onn. 

you.

[has she thought of you? what it would do to you?] 

you know kara will carry on because she loves too much. 

but that doesn't solve the problem at hand. the problem of feeling too much and not knowing what to do with the dust of a world gone choking her lungs. 

_"have you seen her?"_ maggie is asking, and it takes you this long to realize that you haven't actually replied.

"no," you say "not tonight. she wasn't at the bar." 

you hear maggie let a soft curse slip through _"okay."_ she's saying, even though it's anything but. 

even though you can hear alex in the background and it sounds like the panic she's trying hard to smother is winning. 

"do you think she was taken?" you ask, and you wonder if it's bad that part of you hopes that's the case, that this disappearance wasn't preventable if only you'd really listened. 

there's the hitch of a door closing, a deeper kind of silence and maggie saying _"i don't know. there's just no sign of her."_

"maggie," you start, trying to think of how you can explain what you're thinking without saying the words that will terrify alex into surefire panic "kara came to the bar last night." 

you hear maggie stiffen. 

"she does that, usually helps me close on monday nights. but last night she was," you struggle for the words, you feel responsible for this somehow, like you should have seen this coming "different." 

_"different how?"_ maggie asks, like she already knows the answer. 

"maggie," you start, you don't know how to say it. 

you know what it is in human terms, you know what it sounds like. but you also know what kara felt like - must be feeling like. the duality of wanting to die just so the pain of loss will end, and wanting to stay alive because sometimes not every day is this bad. 

you get it. 

you should have recognized kara's struggle sooner, recognized how hard it must be for her. sure, you'd talked about it, shared tears on the actions of forefathers, of foreparents, but maybe, you think 

maybe you had never really listened. 

_"different. how."_ maggie says and there's such controlled calm laced through those two words you know she's doing her best. 

"she's struggling." you say "it's hard to explain." 

_"m'gann you've got to try because alex is -"_ maggie stops herself, collects, takes a breath. 

you take one of your own. 

_"we're worried, we're all worried."_ maggie says 

we - alex and maggie and probably j'onn and james and winn and even eliza. 

we - that includes you. 

"she was feeling too much." you start, it's a terrible explanation but it's all you've got "it's the time of year, it's always hard. she was really struggling." 

you know what this sounds like. 

when maggie speaks next her voice is so low it's barely a whisper _"are you telling me i need to be looking for a body?"_

god. 

for a moment you have to consider it because it's a serious question, and even the half second of thinking about it - of the future where _that_ happened, it's pain. waves of pain. and kara would never do that. she spends every day fighting so people don't have to feel even a tenth of what she lives with. 

you know what to say. 

"no," you tell her "no, no, kara would never. but, when you've made that choice, you're trapped with all that you're feeling. it can get to be too much." 

you're speaking from experience now.

three hundred years on this earth and maybe, maybe you can be doing more than just kicking yourself. maybe you can actually help. 

_"where do you go, when it becomes too much?"_ maggie asks, and of course she knows. 

she's known you the longest out of anyone in this city. 

"i'll check them." you say, because while you've never outright told kara where you go, the subject has been skirted, and you think you can guess where she'd be "i'll let you know if i find her. and maggie -" 

_"yeah?"_

"could you not tell alex..." you trail off 

not tell alex that her little sister is what humanity, and many other races, would call casually suicidal. flirting with the idea of not existing anymore because it would be a relief from the constant barrage of loss, of anger, of powerlessness. but also suffocating, trapped in this life because doing that would hurt so many people - and kara doesn't want to hurt anyone. 

_"i won't lie to her."_ maggie says and your stomach drops. 

but you can't expect anything else from maggie. and this is alex, kara's sister - of course maggie won't hide this from her. 

_"but-"_ maggie continues _"she's already worried, there's no need to worry her more."_

"thank you." you reply, but you know maggie isn't doing it for you. 

_"just call me if you find her."_ maggie says. 

the line is dead before you have time to say 

of course. 

and you're left standing in front of your building 

[how long have you been here?] 

knowing what you have to do next. 

[it's flying] 

[but it's for kara] 

[so you do] 

*

you go north first. but it's colder than cold, dark and windy and snowy and you just know that kara isn't here. 

it takes a little over ten minutes to get to antarctica. 

luckily down here, it's summer - but it's also almost two in the morning, so while the sun is never quite down, the temperature is still, as you would describe 

fucking freezing. 

you're flying overhead, watching, listening. 

you hear the research station and all of its life. 

but mostly it's silence. 

on and on - like the tundra before you - the ocean. 

until you pick up a silence that isn't a silence. it's deeper.

it's a void. 

a familiar depth of silence that pulls you to the ground. it's not actually the ground. it's more a massive, gorgeous iceberg. 

you see kara there. 

she's sitting atop the curve of an arch - knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around her shins. her head is up, and you wonder how long she's been listening to you. 

[maybe listening for you?] 

[or was she expecting j'onn?] 

"can i sit?" you ask quietly, words taken on the wind, but kara hears you, she nods. 

her forehead resumes it's position pressed against her kneecaps. 

you sit next to her, legs dangling over the edge. 

the ocean is calm tonight, the soft rocking of the berg almost soothing. is this why kara came here? or is it that on this extreme end of the earth she _almost_ feels cold. she almost feels something like pain, something like the suffering that's twisted and bottled up inside of her. is she looking to try and hurt physically as much as she does mentally, emotionally? 

you know you have. 

"they're worried about me." kara says "i shouldn't have disappeared." 

you hesitate, then reach out, put a hand on her shoulder "they don't understand." you tell her. 

and it's true. 

they don't. 

they could never. 

but you do. 

and it's not something you're gloating about, but on this planet there are seven billion humans, who knows how many aliens and yet of the entities in kara's life who could understand why she's perched on the top of an iceberg - the list is small. 

maybe two people. 

and you're the one who's here. 

perched next to her on this iceberg. 

"they're all gone." kara says without preface "and even kal, he's - i think he sees himself as more human that kryptonian." 

and she looks at you, her eyes are shining and there are tears already falling - they can't freeze on her face but you think they come close "i'm the only one left who remembers -" 

she shakes her head. 

she doesn't have to explain it to you. 

you find kara's hand, take it gently in your own. 

"it's okay to let yourself feel what you feel." 

it sounds stupid to say that, but you remember the times kara has talked about arriving on earth. she was so worried about fitting in, about not hurting anyone, about not getting discovered, she never had time to really process her loss.

you think maybe it's time someone told her it's okay to be selfish. to look at her own emotions and let them be felt. 

"if i do that," kara says "i think it would destroy me." 

and it is that moment, those words, that make you realize that kara has far deeper pain than even you knew about. 

so many years of hiding. 

of smothering. 

of deciding not to feel. 

"it might." you say "but i think it's destroying you anyway. a little bit at a time." 

kara doesn't say anything to that. but she sits there, holding your hand, swaying on the ice "sometimes," she says "i jump. i go somewhere high, somewhere alone, and i just - i fall." 

your mouth is dry. 

"it reminds me what, who, i'm living for." she says quietly. 

"and?" you ask, although perhaps you know the answer. 

"there's alex." kara says quietly "and eliza." she continues "and my parents, but mostly-" she says looking over at you "mostly i'm trying to live for me." she lets out a deep shuddering breath. "does that make sense?" 

"yeah," you say, you nod "yeah it does." 

and you think about it, think about your own reasons for staying alive. it certainly was never because of the people in your life who would miss you. 

[another bartender could be hired] 

[your friends would inevitably move on] 

at the end of the day it's always been for you. 

for the off chance that you'll get a happy moment. 

or not even a happier time. 

just a brief second where unbearable pain of what's happened, is outweighed by the lightness of being in the now. 

this present, is not one of those times. 

"i should go home." kara says. 

"when you're ready." you reply 

"will you stay?" kara asks, looking back to the horizon. 

"of course." 

[you do] 

[you hold her hand - and she holds yours]

**Author's Note:**

> welp, you can fully blame [this](http://danver.tumblr.com/post/157045261643) post for everything you just read. there's also another post floating around that mentions the idea of kara and m'gann being casually suicidal and i would link to that post, but i'm not having the easiest time finding it. 
> 
> i'm on tumblr under [onefootone](http://www.onefootone.tumblr.com) if you want to yell at me, or say nice things. either or.


End file.
